The Revels Continue
by Vivious Circle
Summary: As one story ends, another begins. The Endless Revels of Life continue.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

/For Wildfly/

**The Revels Continue**

_Followers of Sharess, goddess of sensuality and hedonism, do not have a particular date chosen to honor their patron's name. Instead they happily attend to any secular or holy celebration they are aware of all throughout the year. This collective festival is known as the Endless Revels of Life. The Sharessians can always find a way to entertain themselves, get inside a private party and become a center of attention. However, even though most of the faithful agree that without risk there can be no real excitement, outward sadism or ruining one's mind with Black Lotus are considered a blunt lack of taste. If offered such 'amusements' a priest of Sharess walks away, offended._

_But even if a party turns out to be a complete disaster there is always another night. And so the Revels continue._

***

„A tiefling, a kobold and a drow walk into a bar..." she began the old joke leaning forward over the table, resting her chin on her interlaced palms.

"Wait. I think I know this one." Valen interrupted her with a smile, kissing her lips softly, casting a great shadow on her face as he also inclined to her.

"But I like it…" she pouted, earning another kiss.

"You do know that the entire tavern is staring?" Nathyrra interrupted the two lovebirds. It was true. From the moment they entered they were in the centre of attention, and even as they were sitting by their table waiting for the dinner to be served new people were coming inside to watch the strange companionship. And strange it was indeed. A woman so beautiful that could pass as a nymph, with long hair in dark brown color flowing in a lazy cascade on her back, a man taller than any full-blood human, with slightly bent horns and a tail lashing from under his light cloak, a drow woman blending with the shadows, even when there didn't seem to be any, and a kobold on top of that, with red leathery wings at its back that could be easily hidden under his gaudy cloak were he not flapping them constantly in excitement.

Everybody was staring, yes, but no one confronted them, there wasn't even a smallest sign of hostility towards the specimens of most dreaded races on the surface and below Faerun, only pure curiosity. And when they entered the inn, the innkeeper called Green Marco served them a free round, raising his cup in Varia's direction. Of course he wasn't the only one that recognized the half-elven priestess. Many men rose from their sits to eagerly welcome the returning Sharess' devoted follower. Most of them resigned however, when Valen put his arm around her waist.

Nathyrra was used to this already. No matter where they went or how backwoods the village they made their rest in was, there always was someone who knew Varia well enough to pay for their drinks or offer them a quiet corner under his roof. All eyes were turned on the half-elf and Nathyrra silently suspected that it didn't as much as cross anybody's mind to hold any prejudice against either of her companions. Just as if she was surrounded with some sort of aura, creating a world free of any discrimination, where different meant just as much as exotic. Only Valen was regularly earning fierce glares, but that had nothing to o with his infernal blood.

"The Apple Core", the place where they were taking their well-deserved rest today, was even friendlier than usual house owned by Varia's admirers, and much more luxurious than the name sounded, the best inn in town. The owner was tolerant enough not to mind Nathyrra sitting in the kitchen as their dinner was being prepared, watchful in case of someone tried to poison them, and didn't object when she proclaimed that she would serve the meal herself, so that nothing could be slipped into it. And when Marco saw her handling three plates at once along with cups full of beer without spilling a drop she got an offer of work as a serving wench. She took it for a compliment. Now she wondered how she could show off her skills with a knife, in hopes for a position of a cook.

The drow assassin put the plates and the cups in a neat order on the table the three of them were occupying.

"Completely poison free" she said a bit louder to get through the pink mist that seemed to surround the minds of her two friends. "Unless you count dead spiders." Nathyrra made what she hoped was a humoristic comment, trying hard not to use sarcasm. It took some time for Deekin to teach her the basics of surfacer's sense of humor, but she was an eager and devoted student, and after grasping the general concept she was getting better every day.

She took a sit on a sturdy chair, that even if saw a brawl or two, still looked stable and clean. The only complaint Nathyrra could express about the place concerned a forlorn dwarf standing on a small platform, who was twisting his braided black beard while trying to captivate the patrons with a romantic ballade. So far Nathyrra didn't feel even remotely captivated.

"I love you more" Varia cooed to Valen, looking at the giant tiefling with eyes that spoke of melting butter, teeth-eroding sweetness, bare-naked babies with wings and tiny bows, and other things alike. 'Or maybe I just had enough of romantics for my entire life' Nathyrra thought.

"No, I love you more" Valen replied, also smiling like a fool. What this 'love' was doing to one's mind to make _him_ behave like that? If Nathyrra told Valen five months ago that he would be having this sickly-sweet argument she would be most likely torn to pieces. Her world was turned upside down in more ways than one since then, but there ought to be some limits, for Eilistraee's sake!

She nudged the half-elf under the rib when they continued the 'quarrel', steadfastly ignoring the food she brought getting cold without their attention. And then she pointed the small stage by the bar, where a new performer was taking the place no longer occupied by the dwarf and his weepy ballads.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" A loud and more than croaky voice, belonging to a kobold seemingly too small to produce it, greeted the audience. "Deekin Scalesinger, a bard of some renown…" Here Deekin bowed spectacularly, flapping his shiny red wings. Few gasps could be heard from those who still expected them to be fake and bet some money on it. "…has the unquestionable honor to entertain you this evening with a ballade, finished only today!" Every 'r' in his speech was carefully accented. "A tale titled… 'Hordes of Underdark'!"

Nathyrra felt rather than saw, Varia'del tensing like a spring.

Only to exhale loudly half an hour later. The ballad wasn't describing what happened in the Underdark. Or rather was, but not exactly the way it happened. Deekin neglected some of the facts, added others, never outwardly lying, but stretching the truth like the noblewoman sitting behind them was stretching her far too tight dress. The ballad was about everything in general and nothing in particular, but still remained fascinating and moving. A true bardic masterpiece.

The song didn't mention that she betrayed the Seer. It didn't say that she left her friends to die. Not a word mentioned that she opened the city gates to their enemies and run away like a coward. When a jolly applause rewarded Deekin's performance and Green Marco sent another round of complimentary drinks their way she didn't feel she deserved it, quite the contrary. She stole a glance at Valen. His jaw was tense and his fist were clenching and unclenching under the table, an evident sign of his inner struggle. His tail was leashing back and forth like an angered snake, drawing attention from other patrons.

Varia abruptly got from her seat, circled the round table and hopped on her love's lap, her arms surrounding his neck, putting one hand into his red hair – color so intense that other red things varying from blood to roses could only use it as an example, an unrivalled perfection. And then the priestess of Sharess, goddess of sensuality did all she could to make him forgive, or at least to forget.

"Ahm!" A sound of someone clearing throat made her recall vaguely that they were still in the middle of a crowded common room. But then again… She caught Valen's hand as he began to release her from the tight embrace. One more kiss couldn't hurt.

"Valen?" Nathyrra tried to help the throat-clearer.

And maybe two couldn't either.

"Varia!!!"

The half-elf looked around a bit dazzled. She felt good, warm and far too comfortable to be bothered with minor issues. Judging from Valen's contented expression he'd rather mind being interrupted too.

"What?!" he snarled at the woman who tried to get their attention for few minutes already.

"You haven't changed one bit, have you Varia?" Ayala the Scout stood before the pair, hands on her hips giving the impression of irritation, but smile on her face not quite agreeing with such pose. A worn cloak, boots, which saw the mud of many roads and dungeons, and a bow on her shoulder made her look as if she just walked out from the forest. And it was probably a correct first impression. "Braving the Undermountain, the Underdark and the Hells in few days, only to throw yourself all over the most handsome man you happen to stumble across afterwards."

"It is a rather accurate description." Varia gave Valen a playful nudge, smiling widely. "Valen is the most handsome man I happened to stumble across.

"And I hope you are all for me rather all over me, my love, though I don't mind either." Valen seemed to forget all about his anger as well.

"Who are you and what is your business with us?" Nathyrra asked in sullen note Deekin did not train his way through yet.

"Nice elf lady Ayala." The kobold appeared by the table carrying a big and heavy-looking bag filled with tips he received for his performance. "Nice elf lady is a…"

A slim hand clasped the reptilian mouth before the last word was uttered.

"I am trying to work undercover here!" Ayala pointed out that they were still in the inn, still closely watched by most of the patrons, interested either in a strange mix of races they were creating, or in Valen and Varia's recent activities.

"You may be right…" Varia muttered, somehow managing to look surprised by the fact that so many people were staring so shamelessly at them. "Let's talk in my room."

***

"So… What brings you here?" Varia dared to ask when the full-blood elf finished setting all her anti-scrying gizmos and charms in every possible free space of the room and finally sat with them by the table. "I haven't seen you since Drogan's funeral. Thanks for the letter by the way."

"I was looking for you actually. I heard you are in town." Ayala frowned looking at Valen and Nathyrra, obviously worrying about whether or not she should trust them, but she didn't have much choice. As always Varia'del didn't even consider as trivial matter as secrecy was. "It's Harper business. There is a matter of utmost delicacy that I am somewhat unable to handle. Your help would make my task much easier."

"Sure, I'll help" Varia agreed readily. "What's the problem?"

"Shouldn't you ask that before you agreed to help?" Valen smiled when Varia sent him a mocking kiss. Then he noticed the condescending look Ayala was giving him, almost saying out loud 'How little you know'. He felt instant dislike towards the elf.

A group of priests of Sune was attacked a ten-day ago" the Harper once again addressed Varia. "Six priests on a pilgrimage, who carelessly chose to cross Anauroch via the Black Road, taking only four men with them as an escort. They were carrying a relic of the waterdhavian temple, the Mirror of Sune, but it is not confirmed whether or not that was the reason of the attack. All we know… The entire group has been slaughtered on the edge of the desert, every valuable item they possessed stolen. No one survived. I did not see the place of the massacre, but I read the reports. The bodies were said to be ripped to pieces. I don't know what kind of bandits would do something like that. I'm not even sure those were bandits."

"That's why you are sending us, yes? We are dispensable so you can send us to better gauge what is in there, depending how it kills us?" Nathyrra stopped when Deekin threw her a meaningful look. "…I'm already looking forward to it." She tried to joke. The kobold's frown lessened somewhat.

"Deekin is sure nice elf lady Ayala means us no harm!" Deekin flapped his wings few times, apparently without even realizing.

"That's not the real problem" Ayala sent a smile Deekin's way. "There are many among the Harpers who had dealt with many dangerous beasts already. It is part of our job to be prepared, whatever happens."

"So what is the problem?" Nathyrra tried to sound interested and excited, to make up for her pessimistic comment.

"I'm getting to it. After they were informed about the misfortunate event, the priests of Sune from the temple in Waterdeep required assistance from Harpers. We are an allied group after all, and we always strive to keep the realms a safe place. We were to retrieve the Mirror and bring the culprits to justice. However, they have also hired a band of mercenaries to join us in this task. Namely Lawn Kierkson and his barbarians."

"Ouch."

"Ups." Deekin and Varia reacted instantly looking as if Ayala just told them that a meteor signed 'from Mystra' fell on the newly build hidden quarter of the Harpers, but neither Nathyrra nor Valen seemed to have heard that name before.

"Who is this Lawn?" the weaponmaster asked.

"A man famous for his dislike to all organizations, Harpers especially." Varia said so quickly that she choked, answering before Ayala managed to open her mouth. The elf threw her an amused glance from under her long eyelashes. "And since he is an over seven feet tall barbarian warrior his feelings matter a lot. There's no way he would work with Ayala. Actually, knowing him, he'd gladly do every thing possible to get in her way."

"And you know him…?" Nathyrra sensed a decoy coming.

"Yes, kind of, we go way back." Again Varia almost bit her tongue off so fast she replied, trying not to let Ayala speak. "I won't have any problems. I think we should go find him right away. I haven't seen him for quite some time already. Four months I think."

'Four months.' Valen did a quick count in his head. Just before she came to the Underdark.

"If that's what you think…" There was something left unsaid, but whatever it was Ayala wasn't going to say it. "His band set a camp near Loudwater, it's nearby. From there they intend to go to Llorkh. They are waiting for the Harper agent to show up so don't be surprised if they set off without you."

"It's fine. With little help of magic we'll get there before the sunset. Let's go." Varia grinned at Valen with a smile he recognized as the one that always appeared on her face when she was hiding something. He decided to let it be. For now.


	2. Chapter 2

„We need to split up. There are two taverns of a class fitting for Lawn to visit them." Varia was still smiling nervously when they reached through the gates of Loudwater, a city among the woods, tightly enfolding the river Delimbiyr. She began to talk the moment they walked through the gates, not giving Valen even a second he could use to ask anything, as if she already had a plan formed in her hear during their hastened march. "I and Valen will go to 'the Ghoul' near the river bank while you two check out the Blasted Cow by the northern gates. Deekin, you know the way?"

"Sure, boss!" the bard answered with all his enthusiasm. Whatever was happening he was already a part of it, even though the pair didn't exchange much more than few words since the conversation with Ayala.

"Wouldn't it be better if we all go together? This way we won't get lost." Nathyrra tried to make sense from what was happening, but it was a vain attempt. They were in the town for the first time, and without Varia'del the locals would quickly recall their inborn aversion towards the drow. Why should they split up? The time couldn't be that important.

"Nonsense" Varia grinned falsely. "We'll meet in the Ghoul in one hour."

"In the Ghoul? But if this Lawn isn't there, we'll be walking back and forth!"

"It's very good!" Deekin interrupted. "Loudwater is a nice pretty town. Deekin knows some interesting places!" The kobold flapped his wings few times and began to drag the complaining Nathyrra further into the town. After a moment of gathering her courage Varia tried to do the same with not so cooperative Valen. Her task was much heavier. Literally.

He would be in the Ghoul, of course he would be in the Ghoul, it used to be his favorite tavern, though looking at the front door it was hardly believable for this place to be called anyone's 'favorite'. Varia glanced at her lover, Valen's bright blue eyes barely visible under the cowl of his cloak. He had to be annoyed after the third time she changed topic after being asked about Lawn. She tried to brace herself. It was unavoidable, she might just as well get it over with now.

The door creaked piercingly when she pushed it cautiously. Valen threw a careful look at the signpost hanging over the entrance, a painting of a cup with arms and legs in no way resembling a ghoul, probably stolen from some other tavern or scavenged from the trash. It was swaying dangerously, appearing to only be still hanging because of mistake of gravitation. Varia didn't share his concerns about the place however and just led him under the dangerous sign.

The smell of tobacco and spilled ale, not to mention old blood and urine, wasn't that far off from Abyss. This dark place should be shown to young drinking holes to let them know how they would look when they grow up. None from the chairs or tables had all four legs, and the floor was a cemetery of broken furniture and glass. Valen noticed what could be a human ear, lying among the debris. Not many sailors were present in the common room, the hour was still too early for the dock workers to leave their stations by the river, but all people present were gathered by the table in the centre of this battlefield, surrounding a man looking as a mountain of muscle charted with valleys of scars. He had blonde hair and tanned skin, saying of many days spent outdoors. Every his gesture was speaking of years of experience in battle. None of the sailors was a weakling, but compared to the tall man they all looked like halflings.

"And den I hit 'im on de face. Broke 'is jaw, she says, but he 'ad no teeth to begin with, so it was no big loss!" One of the sailors was just finishing what sounded like a truly fascinating tale. The giant rewarded it with roaring laughter easily outshouting other men. Then he looked around and his eyes rested at the newcomers in the tavern. A smile almost as wide as his face appeared in reaction to what he saw. He stood from his chair, nodding for the sailor to continue the tale without him, and walked up to Varia'del.

"Well, lookie here. I'll be damned, if it isn't Varia'del, the heroine of the Silver Marches, warrior of the Undrentide, the savior of Waterdeep, the conqueror of the archdevil, who graced us, poor mercs of Loudwater, with her divine presence!" His voice was loud as expected, but somehow also very pleasant. Hearing this voice an impression of warm fire and a keg of mead was instantly coming to mind.

"And so says Lawn Kierkson, the hero of Neverwinter, Port Llast, Beorunna's Well, the dragonslayer, the…" Varia only began, but Lawn didn't let her finish.

"Alright girl, you have a point!" The tall barbarian grinned widely, showing that one of his upper front teeth was missing. "Now give me a hug!"

Valen glared at him when Varia a bit too eagerly did as requested, almost disappearing in barbarian's muscled arms. Lawn immediately noticed that.

"And who might be that?" Lawn let go of the priestess pulling her behind him and made step to take a closer look at the tiefling, with his blue eyes much darker. Valen answered with a stare of his own, not bothering to hide the hostility. The fact that he was slightly taller than the human gave him small measure of satisfaction. The air smelled with testosterone.

"Your new fiancée?" the barbarian asked Varia without taking his eyes of Valen.

"No!" she danced from behind the barbarian to her love's side, giving him a kiss on a shoulder, as high as she managed, even getting on her toes. "He's my one True Love."

"True Love?" Lawn roared with laughter that lasted for at least half a minute. Some of the sailors threw them curious glances. "You really got to that girl, didn't you, eh, boy? What's your name?"

"I am Valen Shadowbreath and unless you want to lose more teeth, do not call me boy again." Varia bit her lip, hearing her love growling angrily. This tone of voice was always a sign of upcoming trouble.

Lawn laughed again, but didn't sound amused this time. The tavern behind them fell very silent. "Listen, Valen Shadowbreath, you seem new here, and I don't mean the Ghoul only, so I'll give you an advice. Watch who you try to threaten here, because I don't think you could stand against a northern barbarian. A real man relies on his instincts to keep him safe, not some wretched metal shell." He glanced with amusement at the armor the weaponmaster was wearing.

"Let us see who is a real man here." Valen drew his flail in one swift move, its heavy head releasing few magical sparks on the ground, and gently pushed Varia aside. Lawn looked at him a bit surprised and then studied his battle stance for a second, before grinning even wider than before. He looked at Valen with respect.

"You've got guts son, I admit that. And I see you have seen much in your life already. Fine then. I give up. You have my permission to marry my daughter. It's good you decided to finally settle down, Varia. Mother was beginning to worry you will waste away in this temple of yours!"

"What?!" Valen barely caught his flail when it slipped from his grasp.

"But remember, son" Lawn continued "…if you ever make my girl unhappy, I'll make sure there won't be enough of you left to regret it!"

Valen felt his anger and surprise leaving him. There was already too much he regretted. He felt Varia's gentle warmth when she leaned on his arm again. He looked at the barbarian again. How could she possibly a daughter of this man?

"How's mother?" the half-elf asked, changing the topic. "Is she in Loudwater too?"

"No. She's pregnant again. You're going to have a brother. Or one more sister. But I hope this time I will finally have a son!"

"Fabulous! When's the date? I'll make sure to come!" Varia livened up as she spoke to her father, giving Valen enough time to realize who he was just trying to fight with. Andd what just happened. And why she didn't tell him anything.

"You better be, girl! You haven't been home for so long that little Yulia forgot how you look. And bring your man. Mother would probably like to meet him."

"Boss?" Deekin peeked inside the tavern, whispering in his unique style that let nobody miss what he said. Nathyrra silently slid into the Ghoul keeping to the shadows. At least now she knew what was going on, after Deekin enlightened her about surfacer's marriage traditions and their leader's father strong concepts about it. Old berserker traditions. Nothing wrong about them.

"Deekin, old man!" Lawn crushed kobold's hand in a greeting.

"It's good to see Boss' father again" Deekin sniffed trying to rub some life back to his fingers.

"And who might be the lovely lady over there?"

"I… I am Nathyrra" the assassin came out from the shadows, more than slightly surprised that man's keen eyes made out her shape from the darkness. The surface was too lit. She needed more practice apparently.

"A lady and a drow. Varia, I heard you were spelunking through the Underdark?"

"It's… a very long story." Varia backed out to stand beside her party, as if asking for their support.

"Aye, you're right, where are my manners? We shouldn't discuss this with our throats dry. Let's go to the camp, it's near the city. I have all provisions an adventurer needs there. Your friends need to get to know my band!"

***

The barbarians' camp was certainly neat and well organized, something Nathyrra didn't expect after a quick summary of a typical barbarian's characteristics Deekin gave her during their walk around Loudwater. There were four big tents repaired many times with the use of numerous furs, set around the fireplace, with entrances placed towards the warmth of the fire dancing merrily. Some of the furs looked like ordinary wolf pelts while others had strange black and yellow stripes or colorful dots. The biggest tent seemed to be adorned with what could be only black dragon's scales, as improbable as that seemed. The camp was like a wandering village with trophies kept outside the houses. On the other hand it made sense. There weren't many thieves brave enough to try to rob the camp of dragon slayers.

Five men were busying around the tents and fire, taking care of the camp, repairing the equipment and generally preparing for an adventure.

"That's my band." Lawn introduced them before they came close enough to be recognized. "Vico is the one doing a poor job as a watch." He pointed the man who saw them first and greeted with a wary nod the band leader along with who he took for the Harper agents. "He can juggle six knives at a time and still has all his fingers. Bartard" Lawn pointed another man, looking much like his younger version, maybe with blond hair in a bit lighter tone, and muscles not as well developed and not as scarred, but still fitting a northern barbarian. "His cooking is so bad that not even goblins ever attack our camp, because of the smell. Djalad." Another man, wearing only a loin cloth, was probably from the frozen north of Icewind Dale, because even in such outfit he was sweating intensely. "His belch once caused an avalanche. Heheh, we barely got out from it alive… Keth, he has rats that he trained to do any trick you can name." Indeed as they watched a rat appeared to pick a tool the fourth barbarian dropped wile tinkering with his armor. The rodent took it into its pink paws and climbed Keth's shoulder, walking on two hind-paws, just as if it knew that it was watched and some show would be welcomed. "And the poor lad over there would be Lionel." Lawn finished the presentation pointing a man who looked half-starved in the company of walking muscles with heads. Barely pointed at their ends ears, not well covered by short curly hair of the color of fire someone just threw a spellbook into, were betraying partly elven heritage. He was dourly strumming the strings of a lute he had on his lap. His freckled face stilled in an expression of constant melancholy.

"Hey, guys!" Lawn roared to attract his band's attention. "Look who came with a visit!"

"Varia?" a string from Lionel's lute snapped loudly. All five men immediately forgot about their preparations.

"Her kiss is like a living fire!" Bartard shouted the way that could be interpreted as a barbarian song.

"Her temper like a storm of snow!" Vico quickly threw the second verse.

"Her laughter like a bubbling brook!" Djalad added with terribly hoarse voice.

"Her tears like clearest diamonds…" Lionel added some unnecessary in barbaric singing melody using the remaining strings of his lute.

"But she never cries!!!" They all ended outshouting the half-elf.

"I missed you guys too!" Varia laughed at the peculiar greeting, not sounding like a brook at all. Brooks were not known of lighting fires inside northern barbarians' bodies.

"And that's not all!" Lawn admitted proudly. "She brought her soon-to-be husband!"

Lionel dropped his lute. Four pairs of hostile eyes centered on Valen.


	3. Chapter 3

Varia handed a mug to Valen. It was filled with Lawn's best ale from the keg he opened just on this occasion, the supply gathered among the secret dwarf clan that specialized in brewing. Nathyrra was more than surprised that the barbarians were carrying their own kegs with them, not to mention the heavy-looking tents and camping equipment. There were traced of magic at work hidden in the layers of fabric, but none of the men seemed to be capable of casting any sort of enchantment. They didn't seem smart enough. There had to be a woman involved.

"We have to make a plan." Lawn proclaimed loudly when everybody was seated comfortably around the fireplace and supplied with his finest beverage. Varia even had her own mug in the camp, considerably smaller than the one that she handed to Valen and with a bunny someone carefully carved in it and painted pink. "We were planing to set off by sunrise, to leave the Harpers' lackeys in the dust, but since they begged real adventurers to do their work for them we do not need to hurry that much. The place where the caravan has been attacked is just by Llorkh, we can reach it easily if we set off before noon and see if we can sniff out something those ogre-brains missed." Only now Nathyrra fully understood why Ayala sent them on this mission.

"That's it for the plan. Even more than we usually need. As for now – I propose a toast" the leader of barbarians' band raised his wooden mug in the air grinning proudly. "For my girl, Varia'del, and Valen Shadowbreath."

The par mentioned gladly joined he toast. Lawn's band did as well, but their mugs sure seemed a heavy burden. Deekin had problems too, as his mug was literally too heavy for the kobold to rise it as high as Lawn, not to mention the difference in height. But Deekin always did his best for his Boss.

"Using the time" Vico smoothly began another topic after emptying his mug. "We should get to know better our dear Varia's new friends, after all we are now comrades-in-arms! For example – Valen, you are a half-demon, right?"

"I am a tiefling, I had a demon among my close ancestors. Half-demons are cambions" Valen answered what seemed an innocent question.

"I'm not an expert, I won't argue." Vico laughed as good-naturedly as insincerely. "All I know is that my great-aunt's husband was once kidnapped by a succubus, that's all I know about demons." He laughed again. Varia knew an evident lie when she saw one. Vico grew up among thieves on the streets of Luskan, he didn't even know his parents names, not to mention the fate of his great-uncle.

"It always seemed unfair to me that only men are tempted by succubi." Vico moved to the offense. Keth nodded thoughtfully, as if already knowing what his comrade was going to say next. "Isn't there some sort of a demon that beguiles women?" The thief was trying to make it sound like an innocent question, that Valen would have to answer and Lawn had to consider, but Varia knew that wouldn't stop Valen from knocking his teeth out for suggestion that he was using some kind of dark magic on her.

"There are many kinds of demons that are dangerous to women" Valen replied politely. Nathyrra, who was silently trying to move away from Vico not to get caught in the crossfire, stared at the weaponmaster as if he just declared he decided to become a priestess of Lloth.

'My poor dear Valen' Varia though. He was sitting stiffly like on a private ball where he knew not one guest and drunk his ale, not even paying attention to what was inside his mug. A tiefling weaponmaster able to literally tear through a battalion of devils, so full of anger that it was a wonder his foot-prints weren't burning, now feeling timid and unsecure. Were he to battle her father he'd have no hesitations, but becoming friendly with him was probably more than Valen believed he was capable of. 'Don't mess this up' he was probably thinking. She knew it would happen. Her father had this influence on people and her beloved was terrified to make a good impression on him and her friends. That was the main reason why she didn't tell him Lawn was her father immediately, but she should have given him at least a warning. If Valen was his normal self he would be already pounding sense into Vico's stubborn scull. It's not that Vico was a bad guy, Varia knew him for few years already and she was certain that he and Valen could become good friends given time. But life on Luskan streets left a stain of distrustfulness and natural suspiciousness on his mind that often resulted in him making more enemies for himself than he originally had.

"It would be good to have such blood in your veins, if it had to be demon's." Vico continued, oblivious to how close he was to losing his teeth. "I mean, beautiful women fawning on you without any reasonable cause…"

The unthinkable happened. Valen didn't punch him straight in his sly face.

"What do you think we'll find near Llorkh, father?" Varia tried to change the subject seeing that Valen almost crushed the mug he was holding, but didn't reply.

"I can use magic to check out the place" Nathyrra came to her aid. "Ayala suggested that there is a possibility that it weren't bandits that attacked the pilgrims. If it was some sort of magical beast I might be able to detect its aura."

"Just so we know, lady" Bartard asked the drow assassin with all measures of politeness. "You have nothing against stepping on a spider or two on our way?"

"I no longer serve the Spider Queen. Eilistraee guards my heart against corruption." Nathyrra nswered honestly.

"Oh. I see." Barbarian's eyes became glassy for a moment. "In that case… you should let us know if you're going to pray or something. We wouldn't want to miss… I mean so we wouldn't be worried."

Naked dancing. Varia immediately knew. There were two facts that every adventurer knew about the followers of Eilistraee. That it was a group of good-hearted drow that came to the surface seeking escape from the prejudice of Underdark, and that the priestesses of the goddess were celebrating their patron by dancing naked in the light of moon. Naturally the other fact was met with much wider group of interested then the first, at least among men.

Varia couldn't even imagine Nathyrra doing anything like that. Firstly, the assassin wouldn't leave even one of her knives behind. Secondly, though it was just a guess, the tradition wasn't obligatory and keeping your clothes on while dancing in the cold and windy surface night was allowed. Or maybe she just didn't know her friend well enough.

"It seems we're out of beer, gentlemen. Valen, let's go, we'll take another keg." Lawn patted Valen on the shoulder. The tiefling cast a last uncertain glance Varia's way and went with the barbarian to furthest tent, marked with dragon's hide. Lawn entered first, but barely spared a glance at the fresh unsealed kegs. Instead he turned to Valen.

"They are good guys, honest, if simple." He looked at the tiefling, and then suddenly smiled showing the gap in his teeth. "They have golden hearts, but if you want their respect, you need to break few bones and knock out few teeth."

"Yes, mister Lawn." Valen felt as if he was once again facing one of the generals that commanded the doomed army he was the part of during the Blood Wars.

"Mister? Heh, son, you need to loosen up. Call me Lawn, or even dad, if you feel like it. We're like family now. But that's now why we're here." The kegs and barrels finally won his attention. "When my first daughter, Varia, was born I swore to all gods that were listening at that moment that I will not give my daughter away to a man that doesn't fulfill my three conditions. First, he needs to face an enemy he knows is stronger than him. I will let no coward ever get near my girl! From what I heard about what happened in Waterdeep you did just that. Second, he has to be able to stand up to me, because I hate weaklings that cower before their equals. And as I said, you've got guts. The third condition is that he would have to best me at drinking, but I had to call that one off because Varia declared she's not going to marry any alcohol-addicted ogre. Well, seeing how you drained my strongest ale without blinking I think she won't need to! What say you, Valen Shadowbreath?"

***

"…then hhe shtarted to laush an say that we'rr never gonna getsh him" Valen said. "He laushed and laushed and then he shtumbled! He shtubled and fell into the hole, himself!" Valen ended triumphantly, victorious against the vowels.

Lawn laughed drunkenly, literally rolling on the floor. Varia and Nathyrra watched it astounded. They came to check why getting the keg was taking them so long and now they found out. Behind them Lawn's band was crowding.

"Ooone more round!" the tiefling spilled most of the ale flowing from the tap on the carpet on the floor of the tent, but somehow he managed to fill his mug. Then Lawn tried to hand him his, but after a moment of trying he decided to just put it on the floor so that his soon-to-be-son-in-law could reach it.

"Llasht round!" Both men raised their cups, their faces twisted in inhuman concentration as they tried not to spill even one drop. And then they drank.

Lawn smiled sheepishly looking at now empty mug. Without changing expression he fell backward on the floor and immediately fell asleep.

"I won!" Valen clumsily stood up, trying not to step on any of the white mice dancing before his eyes. "I won!" he shouted again as if challenging the barbarians to question it, so the traditional brawl could begin. But men only looked at him with pure astonishment. They wouldn't be more surprised if an avatar of a god came down from Mount Celestia to best their leader.

Seeing he wouldn't get any reaction the tiefling turned to Varia and made few unstable steps in her direction. 'He must have poured into himself just as much as my father' Varia quickly glanced at the battlefield the two men left in the tent. 'This demon's blood of his… He is going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.'

"Varia…" he took her hand in his and tried to concentrate one of her eight swirling eyes, each as beautiful as a star. "Will you marry me?"

Varia'del smiled.

"Of course, my dear." It wasn't the first drunken proposal she got. But probably the first she considered accepting. Now was not the time however, and besides, Valen wouldn't remember a single thing in the morning. She supported the stumbling tiefling and gestured for others to make space to lead him out. "But tomorrow, alright? Now you need to rest."

"Tomorrow is fine… is fine…" Valen was falling asleep on her shoulder, but Keth helped her support him before his full weight sent her on the ground. He nodded to her pointing an unoccupied tent near the centre of the camp.

"Tomorrow…" Valen muttered, when she covered him with a thick fur on a bedroll near warmth of the fireplace and went to take care of her father.

***

Tonight was probably the last time she would pray. The long time service that was all her life since the day she crossed the threshold of the temple eleven years ago. As hard as she tried Varia couldn't find the words anymore. Tonight she had nothing. No interesting tales of what she saw that day she could pass on to her goddess, no new sensations, barely a new experience. And there was no passion, not in the literal sense, as if all of it was submersed by this new continuing revel – love. It was time for her to finish her service in the priesthood, because her life was to change from now on. Monogamy and her goddess didn't get along well.

In the dim light of dusk Varia'del prayed for the last time saying her farewells.


End file.
